


Sequins of Events

by emissaryarchitect



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, No Mercy Run, Other, aka sans stop being a shit, also Mettaton stop being a shit, this can be ship or platonic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-18 12:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5929186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emissaryarchitect/pseuds/emissaryarchitect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you're desperate, you try different things.<br/>“Just… when the time comes, don’t be all noble or whatever. Fight dirty. Do something you wouldn’t do.”</p><p>Maybe this would change things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like this AU

How exciting, how terribly tantalizing!

A human, _here_? In the Underground?

Mettaton could barely keep from squirming, drumming his fingers on the nearby table, bobbing in excitement. Where were they headed? Were they still alive? He had to get to them first! If Asgore got that human soul before he did, it would be game over for humanity!

Apparently the human had been on the move for several hours and had already passed through Snowdin. Alphys had cameras set up all over the Underground, right? Mettaton rolled up from his seat and swiveled around to the door – he could probably ask her for another favor-

As he swung it open, a figure stood on the other side. He almost yelped from surprise, his screen blaring red in terror before realizing it was just another monster. He wore a blue hoodie, lined with white fur and with his back side-long to the door.

“Are you lost?” Mettaton droned a question out, rubbing his hand along the left side of his head. “The hotel lobby is down the hallway and to the left.”

“Listen,” the monster said quietly. “I don’t know, maybe… I don’t _know_ ,” he sighed, putting a hand on his face. His fingers were delicate snow-white bones, creasing over the ridge of a fleshless skull. “Just… when the time comes, don’t be all noble or whatever. Fight dirty. Do something you wouldn’t do.”

“I think you’re lost,” Mettaton finally edged the words out tentatively. “Or, you’re at least at the wrong room.” His patience should have worn thin by now, as in showbiz every second counts; but that skeleton had spoken with such desperation and exhaustion it was enough to give him pause. Maybe he could escort the monster to the right room, since it seemed like an emergency.

The monster finally turned, cocking a head. One of his sockets was alight with a blue pulse, so deep and rich it seemed to come from the center of his skull and explode outwards. “You’re Mettaton, right?” There was a hint of exasperation in the question.

“Of course,” he scoffed in reply. How could there be any doubt?

“Then _you’re_ the square I’m looking for. You’ll tune in to my frequency when the time is right, I guess. Or not. Maybe this is all in vain.”

Mettaton stared at the skeleton in bewilderment. “Was that a pun, or-?”

The skeleton was gone. The air felt like static for a moment, and it vanished before MTT could think about it in more detail.

That was certainly strange. That pun almost felt forced, and who even wore a hoodie in the hotlands?

No matter – To Alphys’! Mettaton’s thoughts instantly went to the scaled scientist. She wasn’t really doing anything these days anyhow! It would be a shame to leave her there, simply sitting and writing fantasy worlds and eating cheap food.

He rolled into the hallway, waving at a few adoring fans as he passed. When was the last time she visited the hotel? He couldn’t recall her ever visiting at all, actually.

What a shame. She might like the Starfait, if she had the gold for it, but he doubted it. He rolled into the nearest elevator, across the volcanic rock and idly watching the spitting lava as he passed. All of Hotlands was always alight with it, and if it wasn’t for his super insulated form, his wires might have fried by now.

He entered the elevator – bottom floor. Alphys place was close enough to the boatkeeper that with a brisk walk and short ride she could visit Undyne at any moment. He pondered them for a moment; those two blatantly had feelings for the other, but if show business taught him anything, it was that the most obvious of things were also the least observed.

The elevator groaned as it descended. Maybe, he could set up a romantic comedy about those two! It was certainly an odd pair – the Royal scientist, in love with the Captain of the Royal Guard, but the plot held merit. Maybe then those two would finally talk to each other if he shoved them on screen and made them role-play at each other, reading lines and pre-written dialogue.

The elevator jolted to a stop and the doors hissed open. Perhaps he could use this show idea as a recompense for Alphys’ making his body. She deserved a good reward, and what better reward was there than true love?

Her lab was not too far away. He whistled a little as he neared, and by that he actually just pushed hot air out from his core and it shrilled like a tea kettle. Maybe he could ask her to work on that, too.

He neared the door, the automatic sensors pulling the grey metal aside so he could see the pristine white tile of her lab.

“OH ALPHYS~!” he sang aloud. There was no response. “Alphys-?”

From across the room, he heard Alphys shriek in dismay, the sound of papers and garbage toppling over in shock. He sped across the room, hooking his fingers around a corner so he could jolt forward faster – Alphys was splayed out on the floor, scrambling away from her TV screen with tears streaking down her muzzle. “No, no! _No_!”

Mettaton skid forward, trying to help her up, before he looked at the image she was so transfixed on.

 _“If you think I’m gonna give up hope… you’re wrong_.” Undyne was leaning on her spear, her body shivering on screen. Her armor was dented and torn – he didn’t recognize that armor, what-?

 _“Because I’ve… got my friends behind me_.” She heaved, magic spewing from her left eye socket in a frantic streak. She was sweating terribly, huge beads dripping down her face. _“Alphys told me she would watch me fight you…”_ she smiled a little, as though she was smiling for Alphys, a last gift- _“And it anything went wrong she would call and… evacuate everyone,”_ her voice was beginning to strain and gurgle “ _By now she’s called Asgore and told him to absorb the six human souls…”_

“Alphys,” Mettaton asked urgently “what’s happening? Why is Undyne-?”

 _“And with that power,”_ her voice hitched and distorted, those huge beads of sweat becoming beads of flesh as they began to melt off her, her feet giving way and her form slumping downwards, a painful smile forced on her face “… _This world… will-! Live on!”_ Her left arm simply slid off, plopping to the ground like watery dough as she toppled forward.

Undyne, the champion of the underground, collapsed into dust.

She was dead.

Alphys hadn’t moved – the other form on the screen shifted then, turning to look at the camera smugly.

The human killed her. The human killed their champion and captain, the muscle and blood of the underground crushed like she was nothing. They stepped forward and kicked their feet when they walked, caking their little shoes in Undyne’s dust.

They were coming. _Here_.

Mettaton’s chest was seized with a terror so fierce pain shot up his circuits. He spun around and clamped his hands onto his friend’s arms, shaking her violently. “Alphys!”

She suddenly flinched and blinked, looking up at him. “I – she’s dead,” she whispered.

Mettaton didn’t know what to say, but he squeezed her softly.

Alphys suddenly scrambled out of his grip and went to the TV set, tearing the insides apart with claws and hooking it up with various wires and metal bits that Mettaton couldn’t figure out himself. “I – I’m taking th-the MTT ch-channel, Mettaton,” she stuttered badly, her voice trembling as she hiccupped. “I – I need to warn ev-everyone, and – and everyone is a-always w-watching your ch-channel, these days…”

Alphys always did find projects to do in moments of distress. She would need comfort later, but now…

“Do it,” he pressed urgently. “Tell everyone to come to the MTT hotel, and we can hide them there!”

“Th-That’s not s-safe enough,” she trembled, her shoulders shaking spastically.

“Is there anyplace safer we can put them, darling?” Mettaton asked in earnest. He wasn’t stupid – he would probably hide there too.

“My l-lab,” she replied.

“You can’t possibly think everyone in the Hotlands is going to fit in here, gorgeous!” He looked around – this place only had two floors, and for most monsters that was spacious – but not if they were going to shove the entire population of this city in here.

“My r-real l-lab,” she replied hesitantly, gesturing to the bathroom door. Mettaton glanced at her before rolling over to it. He had never gone inside – never needed to – but now the doors hissed open and he could see it was an elevator, not a bathroom.

“Alphys,” he began, but she waved him off.

“I n-need your help. G-Get m-monsters to c-come in here, I c-can fit a d-dozen at a time in th-the elevator, and I’ll g-go check around the p-puzzle areas f-for monsters too…” her face was streaked with tears and sweat, making her yellow scales glisten. Mettaton rolled forward and put a hand on her shoulder, hoping it was comforting, before spinning around and shooting out the door.

It took hours, gathering the guests and bringing them to Alphys – some other monsters had other places to evacuate to that were closer – a few Pyropes and others like them settled their bodies in the hot lava, tucking themselves into the magma as a hiding spot. A few others were too stubborn to leave – the Tsunderplane insisted “I’m not sc-scared or anything, idiot!” and ended up fleeing out of Mettaton’s sight before he could catch them.

A few of the royal guard stayed behind, the death of their captain burning in their cores. Mettaton didn’t have the heart to try and stop them, instead giving them a forewarning – the human was not to be underestimated.

Mettaton’s own staff were the hardest nuggets to crack. They insisted on supporting their employer and friend, even until the very end, but he finally said “Once everyone is down in Alphys’ basement, I’ll join you all! Come on now sweethearts, have I ever broken a promise?”

They finally agreed and he managed to get them to Alphys’. She was in the elevator, pulling them in. “They’re coming!” She pressed frantically. “The human!”

“Can you fix a broken elevator from down there?” he asked calmly as he helped the slime janitor in.

“Wha-? I guess, but I h-have to get t-to my d-desk and s-send everyone d-down… I c-can lock the el-elevators from up h-here, a-and I’ll go hi-hide somewhere. G-Get in, Mettaton, I can-”

“Alphys,” Mettaton put a hand on both her shoulders “you’re _so_ very brave. How spectacular! How inspiring!”

She blinked, and in that moment of relaxation Mettaton shoved her into the elevator and slapped the “DOWN” key before sliding out. The doors shut in time for him to hear a muffled “METTATON-!” until it was choked out as it descended.

“Sorry darling,” he apologized softly as he tore the wall apart, bits of wood and wallpaper hitting his face “but as they say-” he slid into the space he dug out and yanked on the wires hooked in the wall to the elevator till they snapped. The steady rumbling of the elevator went silent. “-cowards always live!”

His joints clicked into place as his arms went slack, the gloves burnt at the edges. “Even if you’re forced to run away.”

He slid out of the wall, looking at his handiwork. Alphys was a genius, surely she could fix the energy problem from the bottom – but that was just it. She was vital to this world, the same way Undyne was. If the captain was the muscle and blood of this place, then his beloved little dinosaur scientist was the heart of the underground, whether others knew it or not. Without her, the core would have fallen to shambles by now.

Just in case, he went to the panel he had seen Alphys was working with, and flicked the switch for the elevator to come up.

Nothing – he had done his job. Solemnly, he went to the elevator door and put his palm on it. Undyne was truly a fool – why didn’t she run away? If she had, they could’ve made a last stand with Asgore, but instead she had to go and leak the name of the royal scientist to the terrible beast that was now _, no doubt_ , headed in this direction!

The doors on the far side of the room slid open, and he turned, half expecting a last minute monster scrabbling in. Instead, a plume of dust sprinkled the air; a faded blue shirt and tousled head of knotted brown hair bobbed in.

He froze.

It was fiddling around the dials clumsily, and he pulled out his microphone – was never without it.

 _Acting is your strong suit_ , _Mettaton_ , he told himself and _you have an audience of one. This shouldn’t be difficult._

The human stepped forward and opened Alphys’ fridge, pulling out a package of instant noodles and pocketing it without even thinking, almost looking bored with its lethargic movements.

His body had perfect defense.

There was no reason to be scared.

The human turned and spotted him – their eyes glittered like freshly cracked garnets, flashing like a blade around the edges.

“Oh,” he stated slowly “there you are. You ugly little creature.” It was hard to sound dangerous and upset with such a limited synthetic vocal range.

The human quirked a brow and looked faintly amused, and that only spurred his anger on more. “You made quite a name for yourself. Such infamy!” he clapped slow and sarcastically, his screen lighting up bright colors. “I’m impressed.”

The human looked around again, their eyes searching the room.

“Oh, yes.” They looked back at him and it felt like spines were digging into his soul with the glance. That expression was crippling, but he continued. “If you’re looking for Alphys, she’s not here.”

Their eyes pulsed, and for a moment he thought of that strange encounter from earlier – but quickly set that thought on the back burner. “While you were busy doing your, ahem, _thing_ …” Mettaton could only hope his little speech here was buying time for any potential monster that didn’t get the message. They only had so much time… “She was running around evacuating people to safety.”

Now the human looked annoyed, their mouth twisting unhappily.

“Now they’re in a place where you’ll never get to them.” The human’s shoulders went rigid with anger, and Mettaton continued “Deciding not to fight you, my my, she really is the smart one, isn’t she?”

The human stepped forward and Mettaton felt his insides go stiff, every loose wire going taut.

“OH? How sassy,” he said in response. “You’re just itching to get your hands on me, aren’t you?” The human’s hands were flexing idly, as though they were envisioning strangling him or something equally unpleasant. “Well, _T-O-O B-A-D_!” he taunted, stretching the words out. “This world needs stars more than it needs corpses! Toodles!”

With that, he rocketed forward, screeching out the automatic doors – the moment his wheel hit dirt he pulled inwards and blasted up to the ceiling of the cave, hovering there for a moment. Mettaton wasn’t a fighter – he might have been built to be one at one point, but he didn’t have the heart for bloodlust, like Undyne did.

From above, he could see the human scramble out the door, looking around and scanning the area before grunting and continuing on the path.

Who could stop the human? He created a mental list as he blasted towards the MTT hotel. The royal guards, if they were anything like Undyne, were likely to cause some trouble – Muffet refused to leave her parlor, and with those webs, maybe she could deal with the human…

He finally landed back at his hotel and took a breather at the door. But the human already passed through Waterfall, and Undyne was obliterated! All the monsters in waterfall must be dead by now, except the few who managed to have the brains and hide.

Waterfall… Shyren must’ve been killed, the poor thing… and Blooky-

Panic made bubbles of heat burst from his vents, a popping sound resonating throughout the empty area as the metal of his frame bulged outwards. _Blooky_!

Ghosts couldn’t die, but – how frightened his cousin must’ve been, with that creature roaming about and destroying everything!

Why was the human killing everything anyway?! Was there a point? If they wanted to leave, just one monster soul would’ve fit the ticket, but they were going on a spree!

Without how they emptied out Waterfall, it wouldn’t be too long now before they came here, too. Mettaton could go ahead of time, and try to warn Asgore, but he was a kindhearted flower of a monster, strong but delicate in his mercy’ing way. Asgore would try to negotiate and talk with the human. The human didn’t want to talk.

The human wanted to kill.

Mettaton went up to the elevator, a little ache in his heart at how empty his hotel was. Obviously the smartest place to go was to the core and hide in one of its many rooms, but he found himself at the corridor that headed up to “NEW HOME” and hesitated.

He was made to kill humans, that was what he was built to do. How strange it was, that only this morning he was up and about, greeting his employees. If only he hadn’t gotten that blasted message about the human, and-!

Well, come to think of it, there was that skeleton this morning. What had he been talking about, again?

_“Just… when the time comes, don’t be all noble or whatever. Fight dirty. Do something you wouldn’t do.”_

Fight dirty? And that blue winter hoodie…

Had that skeleton come from _Snowdin_? Did he know about the impending chaos, and didn’t bother warning anybody?

Mettaton was almost ready to do a mental soliloquy on the laziness of that particular skeleton, but remembered he did come and warn Mettaton, albeit in a vague and punny way. Maybe he thought he couldn’t make a difference, and coming to the star of the underground was his only hope.

 _I won’t let you down_ , Mettaton thought with an unusual sternness. _I won’t let anyone down, not again._

He stepped into the corridor and waited, shifting his insides into place, plates of metal digging against each other as a new form was sliding into position within his boxy exterior.

_I’ll save the underground. More importantly, I’ll save Alphys and Blooky._

He waited.

**_I’ll save you._ **

 

 


	2. first fracture

He would’ve liked it if the human had taken longer.

Instead, it was only – what, an hour or so? What was the human doing, jogging their way up here to meet him?

…Probably, the twisted little thing.

Instead they entered with an assurance that spoke as though they had been through this route a hundred times. This thing couldn’t possibly be a human – during the evacuation, Alphys’ said before the fight, Undyne had thought along a similar path.

Yes, well, Mettaton knew better. He wouldn’t underestimate them – but he had an ace up his sleeve.

“My my,” he began, looking them over. “You’ve finally arrived.” The human was coated head to toe in dust, just – caked in it. There were a few clods of wet and spongy splotches that were scarlet in color, almost like blood, and he felt his choice harden. This had to stop. “After our first meeting, I realized… something ghastly.”

The human just stared at him, eyes boring into his metal exoskeleton like drills. How unnerving.

“…You’re not just a threat to monsters, but to humanity as well.”

The human nodded a little, as though agreeing with him. “Oh my. That’s an issue.” Now was the time to let his light shine through this darkness.

“You see, I can’t be a star without an audience.” He went slack a little, adding “And besides… there are some people… I want to protect.”

The human looked like they were going to laugh – like what he said was the funniest thing they had ever heard. They were choking down giggling, their cheeks flushing pink and they clenched a hand to their stomach.

 _You think this is hilarious, don’t you, hideous thing,_ he thought. _Let’s make this a_ horror _comedy instead._

As though they heard that mental threat, they looked up and took a few steps forward in response. Mettaton swallowed down the urge to run.

“Ha ha ha,” he mock laughed slowly. “Eager as always, eh?” The human didn’t do anything else, just watched him with an intense expression that was probably built to unscrew bolts with their mind. _That glare can wilt flowers_ , he thought. The human looked ready to fight, and MTT continued.

“But don’t touch that dial. There’s something you haven’t accounted for. As any true fan would know, I was originally built as a Human ERADICATION robot,” he emphasized. “It was only after becoming a star I was given a more… photogenic body.”

The human didn’t reply.

“However, those original functions have never been fully removed. Come any closer and I’ll be forced to show you… my true form.”

_Don’t step forward. Don’t move. Don’t move a single muscle._

The human stepped forward.

“Fine then!” he snarled, his metal exterior busting at the seams as he loosened “Ready then _? IT’S SHOWTIME_!”

His body burst apart, the box-like form exploding outwards as a different figure unfolded and spread into place, his core shining and burning as he rolled every joint, synced his programs, activated all his abilities, contracting and destroying his right hand as a blaster expanded into place, metal ringlets clicking into position as the light from his transformation died down. He flexed his wings, fabricated with light energy. Alphys mentioned something about lightsabers or whatever when she was making them.

The human looked unimpressed with the new look. What a shame. He even had the stage-lights prepped to blare in that moment.

But then again… what that mystery skeleton had said came to mind once more.

_“Just… when the time comes, don’t be all noble or whatever. Fight dirty. Do something you wouldn’t do.”_

Don’t do something he would normally do? What did that even mean?

Come to think, of it, Monster etiquette dictated that the monster who started a fight should let the other opponent go first. Every other monster until this point had done that. Perhaps – if he should deal a low powered blow first, just to catalogue this creature’s power… No, that was predictable as well.

_Fight dirty._

_Well_ , Mettaton thought to himself _there’s no time like the present to try it out._

“Are you ready for a spectacular performance, you horrible little cretin?” The human was prepping themselves, revealing they were wearing an apron that was no doubt magic infused, looking almost confused by his continuing battle banter. That apron might be able to dull a hard blow…

“If you’re so _sure_ you want to be the star of this stage-”

Mettaton lunged forward, rocketing himself ahead with his newly minted wings and planting his blaster against the human’s stomach as they staggered in surprise.

“-here’s a _spotlight_ for you.”

He fired a single, high energy beam as hard as he could, electricity shattering the metal ringlets that held his arm together, his armguard busting off with the energy combustion – he shrieked as it went renegade and a few bolts of it hissed up his face and struck at his body like a serpent sinking its fangs into the most tender parts of his battle build.

The human screamed as well, lashing out with a blade – but the hit was blind with pain, so when the blade hit his chest it slid down his body instead of through it, slipping form the human’s grip. He felt several of his systems collapse from just that small blow, and yet, he still forced himself to detonate as much power as he could at this thing. He used so much energy, his wings blasted heat out hot enough to make his calves melt white-hot.

 When his core began to burn out, his remaining battery power practically nonexistent, he powered down and forced himself to flip over backwards, away from the human.

He exhaled shakily, trembling, the tips of his fingers seared black and part of his mouth a little distorted at the edges. His wings flickered in and out, sputtering streaks of energy, the despairing pinfeathers of a clipped falcon. His insides wheezed at the strain of movement, and he was sure he had torn his vocal chords apart until he spoke.

“A little… _shocked_ , I… attacked first…?” He bantered bitterly, his voice missing some pitches and gritty as sandpaper to listen to, but finally glancing up from his doubled over position, the human was unmoving.

He didn’t realize what a human soul looked like till he saw it tremble out of the human’s body, bright red and pulsing, heart shaped.

If he was smart, he would take this soul to Asgore, to… to…

_To destroy humanity._

With one final movement, Mettaton forced his blaster upwards and shot a beam forwards. It tore the soul apart to nothing, and a few more bolts of electricity snaked up and down his body like eager insects.

“You’re not _human_ ,” he wheezed. “And you’re not going to hurt _anyone_ , anymore…”

His vision flashed red, urgently – BATTERY POWER LOW, his internal systems warned. But he had to phone Alphys, if he phoned her, she could come back up and help with repairing this world.

But he had compressed and destroyed his phone in the transformation. He had a phone, downstairs, by the elevator – a payphone. Yes, that would do fantastically, if he could make it down there.

One of his legs seemed to give out, so he made due pushing himself along the wall, his mouth tasting of copper and feeling gummy. He must have busted a ventilation unit in his chest, and little flecks of metal and coolant were gushing down his side and out of the seams of his face.

His vision was peppered with static and streaks of grey. The amount of energy he had to push into killing that thing with one attack was ridiculous, but it worked. A numbness spread throughout his mind as he focused on the payphone. For a moment, he thought about the fact that he just killed for the first time, but didn’t dwell on it, as though it was an insignificant thing.

He managed to push himself into the elevator down, heaving in desperate breathes. A little longer, he begged the warning that kept flooding his vision. A little longer.

The elevator ride down seemed to last eternally, and yet it couldn’t have, because he felt the cool air of the MTT hotel off in the distance when the door opened. Without the liquid in his system, his core was sure to overheat, especially in the local temperature of the Hotlands. His wings finally died out, no longer pumping energy. Good, that was wasting power he needed.

“Not too long now,” he whispered to himself. He staggered, metal shrieking and crumpling with every uncertain step. By the time he made it to the hotel, there was a streak of coolant and oil that was thick enough to spread across the whole path downwards.

He pushed the doors open, almost falling forward, looking up blearily – its right over there, he thought, and in that moment the compressing springs in his knees slid out of place and he toppled to the floor.

Even the warning message was flickering into darkness, now. The carpet around him seemed to go nonexistent, like he was floating in a cool lake, or his body was being encased in ice while his chest burned unbearably. His insides were overheating. He was sure to be nothing but a pile of liquid and molten metal soon enough.

He faintly heard something, blinking languidly and trying to focus.

“Boss? Boss! Holy shit, what-? What happened to you?” Mettaton couldn’t reply, and Burgerpants lamented “You can’t die! Who’ll sign my checks?!”

If you’re supposed to be my savior I’d rather die, he thought bitterly, but Burgerpants was better than nothing. Probably.

Mettaton reached out blindly, or he hoped he did – he couldn’t feel his limbs anymore and wasn’t sure if they were moving the way they were supposed to – but his mark was true and he planted a hand on Burgerpants’ throat, pulling him inward.

“ _Call Alphys_ ,” he choked.

“What? Boss, what are you-?”

“I’ve got it from here,” a new voice presented itself, and Mettaton felt his body being flipped around so he was no longer face down. Someone was fiddling around with the wound in his side that had completely demolished his insides. “I’m no Alphys, but I can do what I can.”

“ ** _The_** _oth_ -er **mo** -nst- ** _ers_** ,” Mettaton pushed, his voice overwhelmed with feedback, and a single blue lit socket seemed to break through the static in his vision.

“Don’t worry pal. Everything’s _cool_.”  

His cooling systems were suddenly activated and his fiery chest was dismantled – he could feel the hot air on his chest as some heat was expelled from the front panel instead of the broken vents. His body was flushing with feeling again.

“I already called up Alphys. She’s probably on her way now.”

Mettaton always ended a show with a bang.

He pulled his lips up, showing sharp, predatory snaggle-teeth, and coughed “ _What a great performance_ ,” before his world was plunged into darkness.

///

“…be okay…?”

“…should be fine, hopefully, once he wakes up…”

He was only getting sections and slits of the conversation at hand. What were they talking about? And why couldn’t he move?

He realized instead of a screen cam he was looking through dual eyes, and blinked them out of sync before finally blinking at the same time. He was on a lab table, and was looking up at that absolutely garish picture of Mew-Mew Alphys had up.

He wanted to speak but his voice box must’ve been taken out for repair, and upon trying to move, the only limb that he had control of was his left hand. Actually, looking down, he didn’t even _have_ a right hand anymore. He either had a fantastic party or the worst performance of his life.

Glancing down, he saw the tear in his torso and the memory came flooding back to him.

He had been fighting the human, right? And then- someone helped him. Not Burgerpants, though. He was getting a paycut later.

He had trouble turning his head, so he simply grabbed onto one of the many empty Styrofoam instanoodle cups and tossed it to his right. Someone made a startled noise as it hit them and he waved loosely. He couldn’t really move his fingers the way he wanted to. He hoped he wasn’t doing some obscene gesture at them accidentally.

“Mettaton!”

Alphys’ face came into view as she leaned down and hugged him. He tried to pat her but it was clumsy and he nearly whacked her in the head.

“Oh man, Sans told me everything!” Sans? Was that the skeleton? “Just rest now, I’ll patch you up in no time!”

“M-Ma-Mauhhhaaa-” static came out his open mouth and Alphys told him to shush before rewiring a fresh voicebox into his throat.

“Try now.”

“My staff,” he asked doggedly “are they okay?”

“Yes, everyone we evacuated is fine. There were some casualties,” she admitted with a wince “but… King Asgore is gonna fix things, okay?”

“But-”

“Why don’t you _lay off_ the questions for a while and relax,” the skeleton came into his sight, _Sans,_ as Alphys walked away “you were _falling apart_ in your performance earlier, you deserve a rest.”

Truth be told, he couldn’t feel his limbs or see completely how he was laying down, but he pushed “No, I- I have to get on screen. I have to tell everyone it’ll be alright.”

“Why?” Sans asked.

“It’s what I do.”

“There’s no way Alphys can get you patched up sooner than two weeks, tops,” Sans grinned lazily, scratching the side of his skull.

“Alphys!” Mettaton called out. “Get me a microphone. Monsters still have radios.”

Sans stared at MTT with a small halo of bewilderment around him before shrugging and backing away.

Later that day, many monsters would be lying if they said Mettaton’s voice wasn’t as much – if not, more – comforting than that of their own King’s broadcast played hours later.

For many hours, Mettaton, star of the Underground, spoke into a microphone as Alphys repaired his body, and offered words of peace to the surviving monsters.

Sans wouldn’t admit he was impressed.

 


	3. second tally

Mettaton stared at the ceiling.

They were calling him the hero of the underground – the slayer of humans! Come and see him, the fantastic, the gorgeous Mettaton!

Alphys was getting tired of ushering monsters away from his beaten, unmovable body, so Sans just locked the doors. Sans visited a lot. According to Alphys, he “doesn’t haven’t anywhere else to be” and that left Mettaton wondering.

At the moment, all MTT was good for was collecting dust. He was on low power mode, so he felt lethargic, as though movement took great effort – it was like swimming in slag. Alphys was fixing him as best she could, but at the moment she was in Snowdin with the… _what were they called,_ Mettaton thought idly. The _amalgamates_ , that was it. Her basement project was revealed when she had to hide everyone down below, in her true lab.

Now she was dispersing them to their families. To some, they were glad to see family, no matter the shape, in a time of need.

To others, not so much. A local comedian almost snapped after losing his son, Snowdrake, to the human – and to find out his wife was a part of some science experiment gone sour, the weight of the world collapsed on him all at once. Monsters were a tight knit community, more so in Snowdin, so they supported him through the thick of it.

“Hey there pal. Got a lot on your mind?”

Mettaton managed to crack a smile. “You are one reliable skeleton. Here I thought I was alone to start composing a new comedy sketch.”

The robot could barely see Sans out of the corner of his eye, watching the skeleton weakly collapse into Alphys’ rolling chair. “Heh. Maybe you could run the skit by me. I’m pretty punny and I heard word-play was a hobby of yours.”

“How’ve you been?”

Sans rolled his shoulders. “Been better, pal.”

“I heard from Alphys you’ve barely been eating. You ought to keep up with your meals or you’ll be all skin and _bones_ at the rate you’re going.”

Sans chuckled. “Won’t be long, probably.” He didn’t explain further and Mettaton was too tired to ask. Just talking, the movement of the jaw and the weight of his tongue was taxing to work with on low power mode. “Say, since Alphys is gonna be MIA for a bit, mind if I take a look-see at your mechanisms?”

Mettaton wanted to shrug neutrally, but couldn’t. “Sure. Just be careful.”

Sans took a moment to rewire a few of his systems to an external generator – the same one in the corner making that oily seaweed ice-cream Alphys liked so much. Afterwards, Mettaton moved with much more ease, as though pounds and pounds of weight had been lifted from him.

“There. Can you move?”

Mettaton leaned up and exhaled, hot breath against the roof of his mouth. “Better, but my insides are still a wreck. My main core fluctuates – sometimes it’s white-hot and other times it’s infuriatingly cold!” Sans pulled off his front panel and inspected his innards as MTT ranted. “Most of the time it’s – numb? Almost prickly and- ugh, it’s just so frustrating when your insides aren’t cooperating!”

“Cool down, pal,” and Sans pulled out a small shard of ice. “Literally. Your coolant has stayed in the main hull of your body but you had, uh… I guess internal bleeding? Your circuits are all froze up. Must have been why Alphys left you on low power mode, so you wouldn’t thaw and get coolant in places it shouldn’t be.”

The skeleton backed up and yanked out a spare strip of cloth, dabbing the chemical away. “It shouldn’t be too big of an issue to clean that up.”

“Are you going to make me your pet project for the evening, Sans?” Mettaton teased idly, and Sans shrugged.

“My brother…” he paused. “Papyrus, he… really liked your shows. He watched them before bedtime.”

He _liked_ your shows.

Mettaton put a palm to his forehead. “Oh Sans. I’m so sorry.”

“Lots of people lost their family when the human attacked. But Paps just hadda go and try to befriend the little demon.”

“Why-? Couldn’t he see that the human was dangerous?” Mettaton questioned as Sans backed up and grabbed a pair of pliers.

“Of course he could. He isn’t – wasn’t – stupid, but he really believes in the good of everyone.” The skeleton’s shoulders went slack. “He just… he just wanted to help. That was his way.”

“Sans, if there’s anything I can do to help-”

“It’s fine. Hopefully it won’t last much longer,” he sighed, checking Mettaton’s wiring.

“What shouldn’t?”

No reply.

“Sans, you can’t have your hands inside me and ignore me.”

A chuckle – “Watch me television-head.” Mettaton glared and his insides went electric, zapping Sans on the fingertips. “Yeowch!”

Mettaton smirked coyly and Sans stuck a kitchen magnet to his face. “You should be more grateful to the bag of bones that saved you up in the hotel yannow.” The robot peeled the magnet off but it stuck to his hand and he grumbled unhappily. It kept him preoccupied for several minutes as Sans tinkered around.

“So. You a mechanic?” MTT finally asked, bobbing his knees impatiently.

“I know some stuff,” Sans shrugged. “Nothing like Alphys though – I can barely figure this stuff out. She’s really a genius.”

Mettaton beamed. “She is, isn’t she? You know, it was her idea to hide everyone back in her old lab! What a place! I had only seen it once or twice-”

Sans faltered for a moment, his joints clicking in an eerie way. “Wait, you’ve… you’ve _been_ to her old lab?”

“Back when I was incorporeal. I didn’t know she had access to the place, though. I once ghosted through the floor and found myself down there- it spooked me so bad I went straight back to Alphys’ and never looked back.”

Sans stared at him, studying his face closely – Mettaton went quiet and blinked anxiously.

“What, darling, just realized I’m a perfect beauty?”

“There’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“How would you know? You haven’t got any!”

Sans’ smile spread a little, the edges twitching into something less forced and a little more genuine. “Heh.”

Mettaton would have clapped his hands together in delight, had he another hand. Instead he had to make due with clapping one against his knee. “There’s a _real_ smile!”

He could feel Sans pulling at something inside of him, a loose wire maybe – times like this, it was literally indescribable to recall what that sensation felt like. “I’m a skeleton, MTT; I’m smiling all the time.”

“Oh please darling, I’m an actor and I know fake smiles when I see them.” Sans leaned back against the chair and gave MTT’s innards a scrutinizing look, before glancing over to Alphys’ old construction notes. Since he didn’t seem privy to answering, Mettaton took a moment to let his eyes go glazed and tinker around his systems from an internal point of view – several of his programs crashed when he was hit, and a few even seemed convinced he was already dead and wouldn’t respond.

He didn’t know a lot of things about his body, but there was some things he did – for instance, he hadn’t been ignoring Alphys when she had been explaining his mechanical gun arm. He stopped listening when she bought up that it was based upon some gaudy video game, but he understood some of the specs.

With this in mind, he leaned what remained of his left arm and began tying off open wiring and sealing raw circuits off with some electric tape. It took several minutes, since he only had one hand, and after that was over he pried off some of the shattered metal shell and took to getting the broken husk off so it could be replaced. There was now wiring exposed, long and blue like vein-work, and Sans stopped reading over her notes for a moment to help him wrap it in plastic so that he wouldn’t accidentally zap anyone.

“I thought you didn’t know a lot about your body,” Sans noted as Mettaton’s eyes kept flickering between dull and illuminated, looking at his internal programs before experimenting with his hard drive to see if the problem had been fixed “From how you talk it doesn’t seem like you’re in expert.”

“There’s a difference between knowing how to drive a car and how to make one,” Mettaton replied as he pinched a lock of his hair between his fingers and frowning – it was all frizzy and stiff now – “and honey I can _drive_ this car. I also know a bit about maintenance, can’t be a good driver without knowing your vehicle.”

“So basically, you know enough.”

“Yes,” Mettaton nodded “I know _enough_. It’s just – harder to work on yourself when you _are_ the car.” Sans nodded as he spoke, as though digesting newfound information that could come in handy. MTT couldn’t imagine whatever for, but he wasn’t one to complain about a captive audience. “So, Sans, what about you? Why do you know so much about engineering?”

“Someone I used to know was into science,” he replied dryly, looking back to Alphys’ notes. “That’s all.”

Mettaton hummed. “Was it a crush?”

If it was possible, Sans’ bone white expression somehow _paled_ with disgust. “Ugh- _no_! He was family!”

“Oh my, then I must have sounded like a real sleaze ball,” Mettaton laughed good-naturedly “My sincere apologies, Sans.”

“S’fine,” the skeleton muttered, raking his fingers across the back of his skull awkwardly. “Uh. Anyway, would you mind if I got you up and about? I think your presence in Snowdin would be a real treat for the monsters there.”

“Oh _please_ darling,” Mettaton put a hand to his face, cupping one side of Sans’ skull with an open palm “If you can get me back on my feet I’ll dance you to Snowdin and kiss every passerby on the way there, _please_ get me up and moving again!”

“Whoa pal,” Sans took Mettaton’s hand off his face “you are really itching to move around, aren’t you?”

“What can I say, an actor without a role is worthless!” in spite of being injured, he still managed to stick a leg up in the air dramatically. Sans appreciated the effort and cajoled him into calming back down so he could get to work.

Alphys valued the efforts of Sans, and with his help they both managed to get the fabulous robot fixed up in a matter of days. Some things would need longer to work on – for instance, his wings were essentially nonfunctional by this point. Open wiring and exposed bits were a problem, so Alphys and Sans stuffed them with a kind of spongy fiber to keep any moisture out. They had considered removing the light-wings entirely, but that would take another week of work, and it was less of a hassle to just stuff them.

“It looks like you filled my wings with hair,” MTT noted distastefully, and Sans snorted.

“I’d think you’d appreciate it, since your own ‘do isn’t exactly looking up to snuff.”

Distraught, MTT pinched a lock of his hair with a frown. He had been anxious about someone pointing that out – the artificial hair had a type of plastic as its base, and with all the energy he expelled killing the human, it melted and burned apart. Sans sighed heavily.

“C’mere drama queen,” he groaned, gesturing to Alphys’ rolling chair “lemme fix up your hair.”

“Do you really think I’m going to entrust the fate of my hair to someone who doesn’t even _have_ any?”

“Well its either that or walk around accepting that your head looks like its leaking shoe-polish.”

MTT frowned as best he could – they were still trying to figure out how to repair synthetic skin, so it was warped in places – and he managed to wobble over to the seat.

“You look like a baby deer,” Sans snickered as he lost his balanced and fell onto the chair, the momentum twirling him pathetically with his legs stuck up in the air. MTT glared. “What, are you not _fawn_ ’d of deer comparisons?”

The robot in question being mercilessly teased slapped one of his hands to his face – his other arm, the right, had been completely removed from the elbow down for reconstruction, and so he had to make due with a one-hand face-palm.

“Honestly Sans, those puns are so cheap – they’re under a _buck_ ,” MTT grinned under his palm, and Sans snapped his fingers in gratitude.

After some careful repositioning, MTT was sitting in Alphys’ favorite rolling chair. He couldn’t lean back, as his shoulder-guards might’ve done some damage to the cushioning, but Sans wheeled him over to the table and stood up on it to style MTT’s hair.

“Why do you even have a comb in your pocket?”

“In case robots need to get their hair styled,” Sans replied with a snicker, and MTT only rolled his eyes.

It took three tries and several grafts and trimming sessions to get his hair looking a little better, and even then it wouldn’t style over the right side of his face. It seemed that there would be no cooperation from the hair, and it would be forever slicked back until they had the time to completely rebuild his scalp.

With a little bit of training, MTT managed to hobble about with an air of dignity, and even Sans noted the robot had a semblance of skill when it came to making a body like that cooperate. It seemed MTT was used to being in a body that didn’t feel right.

“You ready for a quick trip down to Snowdin?” Sans had his hands in his pockets as MTT did a double check on the tread his shoes had, ensuring it was the proper texture for a wet climate, and MTT nodded silently in reply.

Alphys was back in another meeting with Asgore – MTT didn’t envy her for that. The King was more than eager for more results regarding souls, and all Alphys had to offer was a handful of Frankenstein monsters and a landslide of guilt.

So, the trip was between Sans and Mettaton. He had assumed they were going to ask the boatkeeper for a quick ride, but instead, the skeleton gestured him to an off-shoot area near the transitional path between Waterfall and Hotlands. “This way,” he muttered, his eye-socket coming alight with an eerie, rich glow “I know a shortcut.”

Sans held a hand out, and curious, Mettaton slipped his forward – although his sensory input was still a little glitchy, the skeleton was noticeably cold.

In fact, he was so cold MTT’s sensors shrieked for half a second, sending warning signals all across his vision in bright red fonts – he staggered a little, and when his foot made contact with the ground, it crunched. Focusing, his feet were buried in snow.

Looking up, Sans was pulling back as that same blue hue was receding from around the two of them. “Nice shortcut, huh?”

Turning around, there was nothing behind them but trees, the bark damp and dark, creating long shadows of darkness across the frost. MTT exhaled a hot breath in confusion, whipping back around to Sans.

“What was _that_?”

“We took a shortcut,” Sans replied, flipping up his hood and walking forward – MTT followed, dusting gathering snow off his head.

“Well, warn me next time – my sensors went ballistic with – whatever you just did.”

“ _Shortcut_.”

“I nearly short _circuited_ with that short _cut_ ,” he repeated with a huff. The snow kept clinging to the metal of his frame in clumps, and he let his core heat up a little more than usual to thaw it off.

Sans snorted. “Don’t be _dramatic_.”

Mettaton gave him a look.

“…okay, so maybe that wasn’t the right phrase – that’s kind of your thing – uh, how about you don’t be whiny. We got here way faster, right?”

“I’m not complaining about the speed of our arrival,” MTT retorted with flourish, putting his hand to his chest in offence “simply the lack of glamour accompanying it.”

“…Glamour,” Sans repeated, disbelief and an echo of disgust in his tone “My shortcuts aren’t something you can make glamourous, Metts.”

“Not with that attitude,” he replied, but stopped mid-sentence “and don’t call me that.” They were approaching the main road, now, and he could see a cozy looking house. They must’ve popped up in a cluster of forest just outside town.

“What’s wrong with Metts?”

“Oh, nothing, _Sansy_ ,” MTT replied with a noticeable amount of repulsion in his tone.

Sans shuddered.

“…okay _fine **deal**_ just do NOT call me that,” he blurted all at once, and MTT laughed a little. Once they reached the main road, they could see cloisters of monsters on the streets cleaning up – it seemed they had earlier been collecting what dust they could from the snow, what hadn’t been completely moisturized and turned to a clay-like substance, and now, they were picking up the pieces of their lives.

Monsters don’t usually die all that often – when one does, there’s a ripple of mourning throughout the entire community. In a place as tightly knit as Snowdin, a single death would be staggering.

With what the human did?

This place was devastated.

There were more dead than living monsters, and it showed – each of them had a haunted expression that seemed to shake them to their very core, every movement stiff and brittle as though they might fall apart in moments.

Mettaton sucked in a sharp breath. “Well. I suppose it’s show-time.”

Stepping out into plain view, MTT held his arms aloft and announced his presence with a scatter of confetti around his ears – Sans made a face at that, _where were you keeping that confetti_ – and the spirits of the monsters seemed to lighten instantly.

Hours passed as Mettaton nearly reamed his newly minted vocal cords to bits talking to each and every single one of the monsters in Snowdin. He took pictures, he held children on his shoulders, he posed and sang and danced until everyone looked at least an inch better.

“You need a break before you break a leg, drama-queen,” Sans muttered aloud, tugging on Mettaton’s wrist “take a break at my place.”

Upon entering his home, the whole place was deadly silent. The skeleton went up to his room, and MTT, being a little nosy – _well, it’s not peeking if he invited me_ – decided to snoop around the house instead of lying down for a little bit like Sans requested.

He found terrible cooking, a pet rock, some doodles – his brother’s room was upstairs, and he could see the name _Papyrus_ over the front.

A font family. How punny.

Wrapped up on the nearby table was a red scarf, or a cape, or – or something. What mattered was that when MTT touched it, he found tiny grains of dust sticking to the tips of his fingers, and he drew back with a shudder. This must’ve been his brother’s…

“There’s food,” Sans offered from upstairs, causing MTT to jerk and draw his hand back “if you… want to eat something. I guess.”

“You’re ill equipped to be a host, Sans,” MTT popped a hip, looking up with an accusatory glower “but for your sake and mine, I suggest that we both go back to Alphys’ lab. Take it from me, ghosts don’t have to rattle chains to haunt you.”

Those words hit too close to home, and the skeleton winced back while his socket flared up blue for another split second. Mettaton watched as the skeleton drew back from the edge of the banister, opting to hold his chest a moment while his soul shone silver light through his hoodie.

It took a couple moments before he calmed down. MTT didn’t realize he was squeezing his hand so tightly until his knuckles ached.

“…I guess,” Sans eventually muttered, his voice barely carrying between the two of them “you’re right.”

“Sans-”

“Let’s just go.” He popped up his hoodie and sluggishly meandered downstairs, and held out his hand again – like last time, MTT’s internal screens flashed with warnings and when he managed to close them all he was standing in Alphys’ laboratory. Sans’ shortcuts were a complete mystery.

“One of these days you’re going to tell me about your shortcuts.”

“Not likely,” Sans shrugged with one of those blatantly forced smiles of his “after all, I don’t think this will keep up much longer. But I got some interesting information from this.” _Again,_ with the enigmatic riddles, statements with no context but an eerie foreboding about them - Mettaton squinted, his eyes narrowing on the skeleton. Surprisingly, the skeleton shrunk back a little as the robot’s eyes flared a mechanical neon pink, fierce and frightening as a chemical spill.

“…I am growing increasingly irritated of your cryptic _bullshit_ , Sans,” MTT swore lowly, his voice going into a dangerous range “and if you are suggesting that some danger is going to come to the underground again, I suggest you tell me, since I am so far the only one who has successfully _done anything_ about it.”

His words had a profound effect on the skeleton. He stopped, his shoulders going rigid and still, and his glowing pupils dilated as though he was struck. MTT wanted to loosen up and ask what the matter was, but he remained steady.

“…you’re right. You’re the only one who’s made a difference so far. I don’t know why,” Sans put a knuckle to his mouth “I don’t know why you made a difference – why did you do it?”

“What in Asgore’s name are you talking about?”

“How did you kill the human, Mettaton?”

He blinked. “I attacked first with my hardest hit.”

“But monster etiquette states that the monster to start a fight has to attack second.”

“Sans, _you’re_ the one who told me to fight dirty. Wait a minute,” Mettaton’s eyes glanced to the ground “you – you took a shortcut to my room- that’s how you knew the human was coming! You-” MTT staggered forward and planted his hands on Sans’ shoulders, before picking him up by his hoodie “-you didn’t warn anybody!”

“I warned you,” Sans replied neutrally, blinking, unworried.

“ _Why_ ,” MTT seethed, gritting teeth “did you warn me instead of – instead of _Undyne_ , or _Asgore_ – or hell, even your _brother_ -”

“It wouldn’t have _mattered_!” Sans snapped, his eyes flaring that deep cobalt, and now, flashing with traces of yellow “it never matters!”

“Of _course_ it mattered! Do you know how many monsters we saved because you warned me?!” Mettaton dropped Sans to the ground, throwing his hand up into the air “if you have information about something – if you know something is about to happen – you are _obligated_ to try and save people!”

“Mettaton, _none_ of this matters – you can’t possibly understand,” Sans turned, holding his hand up as though to take another shortcut – MTT grabbed onto his hoodie.

“ _Try. Me_.”

“Why should I?”

“Because maybe if you warned Undyne instead of myself, you would be sitting at home with your brother.” Sans’ shoulders went slack – MTT found his Achilles heel. “I don’t understand what you’re on about, with nothing mattering – I don’t know what you’ve gone through to make you a pessimist. But you don’t have the luxury of giving up when there were lives on line.”

“You wanna know why I’m a pessimist?” Sans pushed MTT’s hand off his hoodie. “Fine. Take a seat, because I’m too tired to talk about this standing up.”

True enough, MTT was also in no shape to be having a screaming match on his feet after entertaining a whole town of mourners. Shakily, he lowered himself back onto the table he sat on for maintenance while Sans flopped over on Alphys’ spinning chair.

“…I’ve done this all before.”

“You mean you’ve been in a similar situation?”

“No,” Sans put a hand to his forehead, the white light making his bones appear even more ghostly “ _I’ve done this all before._ The human – the one you killed – they have an ability to reset time. For some reason, I’m the only one who can remember. They’ve killed the underground hundreds of times.”

MTT was silent.

Sans glanced up as he stared ahead, evenly, in thought. He must’ve stated that with a little too much candor, and swallowed hard.

“…Now that sounds,” he started slowly “like _utter crap_.”

Sans’ shoulders sunk in disappointment. “I should’ve known you-”

“You’re telling me you’ve seen this a bunch of times before and you never once do anything about it?” He sat back up to meet Mettaton’s furious glower. “Never?”

“It never makes a difference. The timeline resets back to when the human first appears. Nothing I do makes a _difference_.”

“Then why did you come to me, Sans? If it doesn’t matter, why did you even try to tell me about the oncoming havoc? Why not just let it happen?”

He was quiet for a long moment, teeth chattering in thought. “I guess… I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You kept saying that this should all be over soon, I’m assuming you were referring to the timeline resetting? And it hasn’t yet?”

“Well – yeah-”

“Then a difference _has_ been made.”

“So what, it’s just a delay of the inevitable.”

“Have you considered the possibility that your actions are the only thing that _can_ delay the inevitable? So the timeline resets. So the human attacks again. But you’re telling me,” MTT rubbed his missing arm sadly “that you’d rather watch everyone die with open arms than try even a little bit to save everyone?”

“You don’t know how long it’s been for me, Mettaton. The days are like water between my fingers. They don’t matter-”

“ _Say it again!_ ” Mettaton snarled, his words cutting through the air with such unexpected ferocity that Sans drew back “say it doesn’t _matter_! So, the timeline resets for you, **fine** , good for you Sans – but for me? For us? _This is life_. _This_ is what we get to live with.”

Mettaton stood up, and though his legs shook a little, still needing more repairs, there was nothing weak about it. He stood as though he was barely holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, and the only way you could tell that he was straining was how his knees wobbled uncertainly.

“For you, this is just another _nightmare_ that passes but – _this – is – my – life._ And you do _not_ get to sit there in your self-pitying pool of time-water and sermonize to me about how _my_ life, and the life of my _friends_ and _family_ **_does not matter!_** ”

Sans stared, unable to reply.

MTT stood in front of him, the image of determination, forcing himself on his feet with grit teeth and twisted brow. He’d never looked so human before, not when he was Mettaton ex, not when he was neo – no, flushed with spite and strength as he stayed upright due to willpower, Sans backed away ever so slightly, out of his seat, looking at the closest he had ever seen a monster make determination without falling apart.

“You have officially reached rock bottom, Sans the skeleton,” Mettaton declared angrily “so you have _no_ excuses now. I have fought with literally every inch of my being to save the underground against a threat I had no way of properly anticipating. You have the element of surprise and understanding on your hands. You go through the world over and over with no consequence? Then actually _learn_ from it, like the human did.”

“How is it that you’re understanding this so fast? How are you possibly comprehending everything that I’ve told you and – and _scolding_ me about it?” Sans sputtered, his gaze darting from MTT’s shaking feet to his face.

“Because if your brother were here _he’d_ be the one doing it.” MTT finally faltered, having to lean on the counter. He coughed a little as his voice box tried to adjust to his recent rant. “What’s your excuses? I promise I can cut them all down.”

Sans fiddled with his hands. Mettaton understood a lot more than he lead on, and he was a lot more determined than what met the eye. When push came to shove, he wouldn’t give up.

… _He_ wouldn’t give up.

“…when the timeline resets, no one will remember. Just me. No one will believe me if I try to warn them about the human, until, it’s too late.”

“I won’t remember you repairing me or rescuing me?”

“No,” Sans hung his head “you won’t. You won’t remember this conversation, either. It’ll be like it never happened. No one will trust me.”

“I will.” Sans looked back up to MTT’s surprisingly soft face. “I will trust you. And I will tell you why – only my cousin knows my family name. Not even my biggest fan can tell you this nugget of trivia Sans, and no memory or not, I _will_ give pause to someone who can tell me my birth name.”

“You’re going to trust me with this?”

“On the condition that you use my trust to save the underground, like I did this time. I don’t ever want to see my home suffer like this again. If the timeline will reset as you claim, then I have nothing to lose by telling you this secret,” Mettaton explained sagely “and if the timeline never resets, you knowing my family name will just cement what I already know.”

“What do you already know?”

“We’re friends, Sans, or did all those new timelines make you forget that?”

Sans paused, a breath of silence – before he smiled helplessly, scratching the side of his skull awkwardly with an open palm.

“…alright. I’ll bite. What’s your family name?”

Mettaton smiled with his half-melted face, and ushered Sans closer. He whispered his family name was quietly as he could, reverently, the word sacred in its secrecy.

 

**CONTINUE    RESET?**

 

 

 

“…I won’t fail this time,” the human muttered, frustrated, as their hand barely grazed the reset key. The world flashed white.

 

 

 

Sans woke up in his bed, blinking awake to the sound and smell of his brother cooking.

“…damn.”

 


End file.
